Never  Meant to Last
by Venice.Luna.Blanche
Summary: Last Dreamer Steve H/C challenge... While investigating a murder on a luxury yacht just off the coast, Steve stumbles across a timer. A harmless, inconsequential, set and ticking timer.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey all! This latest episode of Steve H/C is brought to you by the lovely Last Dreamer, who posted a wonderful challenge that I just couldn't pass up. It's going to be shorter than the last story… I hope… so be on the lookout for something quicker this time around. Of course, you never know with me. NYAP was supposed to be 15k words and, well, I wrote more than twice that.

In any case, I will try my hardest for a quickie. I should be in and out in a jiff and you won't even know I was there.

Please, someone make an awkward sexual joke about that.

Enjoy!

Luna.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, plotlines, and snappy catchphrases belong to CBS studios. No profit is being made in the publication of this story.

* * *

><p>"Do you want to know the five stages of drowning?"<p>

Steve looked up from the file he was reading, surprised. Sure, Danny had been pacing his office with short but angry strides for the last several minutes, but up until that point he hadn't made any attempt to actually communicate with his partner.

"You know," he replied, smirking at his agitated partner, "I think I once had a test on the five stages of drowning." He pretended to think about it for a moment. "Uh... yeah, I did. It was right before I had four hours of cold water conditioning. Actually, I think I may have had a job that had something to do with the water, too, at some point…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Navy SEAL knows how to drown. Can't you just let me rant?" Danny replied, throwing his hands in the air and glaring at Steve.

"Why are you ranting?"

"Because some bastard named Niko managed to get himself gutted. On a boat. A boat that is currently floating miles off the coast. In the ocean. Where people drown."

Steve eyed his partner; Danny's stance was aggressive and annoyed. In fact, it was how he usually addressed _Steve_. Having his partner's irritation directed at something else was a nice change. It didn't explain anything, though, so Steve was just as confused as he was before Danny started talking.

"Okay," he replied slowly, "so Niko is fish food. What's your point?"

"My point is that HPD decided 'off the coast' was _not_ their jurisdiction and your goddamn useless Navydecided a guy getting murdered in the ocean wasn't a priority, either. So guess who gets to go get a dead guy on a boat. _We _do."

Steve frowned. "Where was I for all of this?"

"Holed up in your office since we got here three hours ago, cell phone- less, doing whatever it is you do in here. The governor sends her love, and says that you are no longer in a country with one cell tower and no service. She kindly requests that you answer her calls."

"I always answer her calls. I just… got distracted." Steve looked around, not believing he'd spent the better part of three hours sitting in his chair, doing paperwork of all things. It truly was a waste a beautiful morning.

"I can see that. The point is, though, that this is all _your _fault." Danny gave him another glare.

"My fault? I didn't gut your guy Niko, Danno, and I don't recall driving him out into the ocean, either." Steve smirked at his partner's tense form.

"No, but _you're _the governor's bitch. And _you're _the one who wasn't around to answer the call. And _you're_ in the Navy-"

"So this is my fault because I'm in the Navy?"

"Yes." Danny nodded to reaffirm his words.

"And remind me again what I'm at fault for?"

"You are the reason _I _now have to go out into the middle of the fucking _ocean_to find a guy who's too dead to care about who killed him anyway."

"Aah," Steve said, nodding in mock concern, "of course."

"I hate you, Steve McGarrett."

"Not as much as you hate the water."

"More."

Steve couldn't help but laugh. Danny reminded him of a surly teenager who'd just been told he had to do his homework.

"That's harsh, brah. Tell you what," Steve offered, standing up to stretch out, "_you _finish this mindless paperwork, and I'll go see your guy Niko. How's that?"

Danny looked like he was seriously contemplating the idea. His eyebrows rose thoughtfully, but he frowned a moment later.

"I understand you think you're a superhero," he said, "but I still can't in good faith, and for the sake of the Hawaiian people, release you into the ocean by yourself."

Steve rolled his eyes; leave it to Danny to be so concerned about _water_. "I'm a SEAL Daniel. It's just a little water."

"I don't trust it. And I don't trust _you_." Danny didn't actually sound all that concerned, so Steve was sure his partner was really just inadvertently ranting about how nefarious the ocean was, and not trying to make sure Steve would be okay.

"I'm hurt."

"Will you at least take Chin or Kono, you big schmuck?"

"They're coming back from Maui, remember? They won't be back until this afternoon."

"Right…" Danny still looked apprehensive about letting Steve go out on his own.

Steve came over to put a hand on Danny shoulder placatingly. "Relax, Danno," he said, "With all the things you bitch about me doing on land, the last thing you should be concerned about is me in the water."

Danny grunted, but it seemed as though his need to catch a killer outweighed his distrust of the ocean.

"Fine. I will finish all of your goddamn paperwork, and you can go play in the water with a dead guy."

"That's so… wrong."

"You're funny," Danny said sarcastically. He moved past Steve, sat down at the too- big office chair and pulled himself up to the desk. "Run along now." He sounded like a teacher.

Steve let out a mocking sigh. "But Principal Williams," he pleaded with a small smirk, "I don't want to go back to _class_. It's so _boring._"

Danny gave him a look that was surprisingly similar to a chastising professor.

"It's a good thing you went to an academy, or else your teenage insolence would never have been beaten out of you."

"That's rude," Steve replied with a laugh. "Don't forget the pink forms go to the governor's office."

Danny gave him a noncommittal sort of grunt, already efficiently filling out names and dates in their rightful places. Steve, satisfied, turned on his heel and marched out of the door and through the main room of the building

"Call when you're done!" Danny yelled from the office just as Steve reached the end of the hall.

"Yes dear!" He called back before continuing out and letting the door swing closed behind him.

* * *

><p>It was unfortunate that Danny detested the water so violently, because it was truly a stunning thing; the gently lapping waves and crystal clear blue color were mesmerizing to any <em>normal<em> human being, Steve included. Even growing up in Hawaii, you never really got over the simply beauty of the place.

Of course, to anyone from a place where concrete was the main manufactured good and clean water was the kind that came to your home in pipes, it _could_ be a little daunting. It didn't excuse Danny, though, so Steve reserved the right to heckle the Jersey Native mercilessly.

The ride out the murder sight was quick, thanks to the very fast speedboat HPD had so kindly let Steve borrow for the rest of the morning. Of course, the deputy in charge of the vessel had almost wet himself under Steve's glare before stuttering out a barely discernible "okay," but what was really important was that Steve had a boat and HPD didn't have to clean up a crime that was _their_ responsibility. Everybody was happy. Except the deputy of course.

Steve took a quiet pleasure in cutting silently through the water for the few minutes that it took to find his floating crime scene; he would never get over the humbling feeling that came with being the only one around for miles in a vast, watery desert. It was more peaceful out there than it ever could be on land.

His reverie was cut short, however, when a white speck appeared in the distance. It grew steadily larger as Steve neared it, and it was proving to be much more than a boat. The yacht was massive- a hundred feet long- with several decks and more space than one person should be allowed to have in a single vehicle. Steve gave a mental groan, realizing how long it was going to take to investigate a murder on a ship of this magnitude.

Sighing, he killed the engine of his boat, roped it to the yacht, and climbed aboard the larger vessel. The deck of the ship was just as luxurious as it appeared from afar, but it was also void of any bodies, live or otherwise.

"Danno, you owe me big," Steve muttered to himself, shaking his head and drawing his gun. Methodically, he moved deeper into the vessel, searching room after room for the body supposedly on the ship.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Steve opened the door of boiler room in the lowest level of the yacht and found Niko. The man was spread eagled on the floor in a pool of his own blood. His neck had been slashed open viciously as well as his stomach, and his insides were gruesomely displayed atop his chest like some kind of horrible surgery.

Holstering his weapon, Steve moved closer to the body. Niko hadn't been dead for long, and the room was thankfully void of the smell of decay. The wounds on his neck and chest were jagged and harsh, and it appeared as though Niko was sliced from behind and killed right there. Why he was slashed was a mystery, but- if the tattoo on his arm was any indication- Steve could guess it was gang related. Which only produced more questions, like what the hell a gangbanger was doing on a luxury yacht.

Steve crouched down and peered closely at the man called Niko, trying to discern any possible motive for someone wanting to kill him that _wasn't _gang related. He came up empty.

"Well," he said, addressing the body, "you're just going to make a huge mess for me, aren't you, Niko?" He continued to ponder motive even as he moved to examine the body.

A quiet beep interrupted Steve's reverie. Quirking his head, he reached into Niko's pants pocket and pulled out an old cell phone, cheaply made and bedraggled, that more closely resembled a child's toy than a piece of modern technology. He brought it close to him to locate the source of the beeping in the dimly lit room.

It was a timer.

Steve was a Navy man born and raised, and eleven years in the service had taught him many things. It taught him when to be a Commander and when to be a friend. It taught him when to be a hero and stand up for his country. And it taught him when to run like hell.

All of which were reasons why Steve didn't think twice before dropping the cell phone, turning on his heel, and sprinting back up the stairs towards the deck of the yacht. Even as he ran, though, his gut told him it wasn't going to be enough.

It wasn't. He just made it to the front section of the yacht and was about to climb the stairs to the deck when all hell broke loose. A huge explosion rocked the back of the ship as fire burst from the boiler room. Steve was thrown bodily forward as heat and flames tore through the vessel behind him. His head connected with…_something_… and he felt only a sharp pain and saw a burst of light before succumbing to the embracing darkness.

Around him, the boat continued to rock and shudder under relentless explosive power.

TBC

* * *

><p>AN: First chappy of my very first challenge response. All my love to the lovely Last Dreamer- whose idea I'm commandeering. Reviews are nice, but so is just reading the story. Stick around! Next one up soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey All! Thanks for the awesome reviews! You guys are great! Even though I've become predictable. Steve H/C is pretty much my forte by now.

But I like it, so boo to anybody who's bored of watching me maim our favorite SEAL. I don't much care… and it's just too much fun!

_**IMPORTANT:**_ I love how many of you guys commented on how completely unrealistic it was that Steve was at a crime scene by himself! It makes me laugh how concerned you all are about it. Anyway, you needn't worry kiddies. There's a reason that Steve's on the boat by himself. Misunderstandings are a bitch for Danny and the team… so I assure you it was on **purpose**_**, **_but I'm still sorry if it irked you guys for the first chappy. All I can say is _relax_ amigo. All will reveal itself.

Enjoy!

Luna.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, plotlines, and snappy catchphrases belong to CBS studios. No profit is being made in the publication of this story.

* * *

><p>Deputy Keikima of the Honolulu Police Department was very proud to call himself a cop. Sure, he was just shy of his twentieth birthday and- by all standards- as Rookie as it came, but police work was a family job and Sami Keikima was nothing if not honored to bear a badge.<p>

Of course, when Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett, leader of Oahu's own Five-0 task force, gave him a cold, menacing glare, Keikima was less proud about wearing a badge and more embarrassed about how close he was to wetting himself. Needless to say, the young Deputy was dreading having to explain to his superiors why they were short one speedboat and why said speedboat had been commandeered by Commander McGarrett of all people. The man hadn't even given him a reason for taking the vehicle, and Keikima couldn't think of any possible reason for the Commander to be out there. As far as _he_ knew, there wasn't anything out there.

More than twenty minutes had passed and Keikima decided he really couldn't put off the phone call to the station any longer. Sighing, he turned from his post in front of the dock and toward the expansive sea, all the while fishing his cell phone out of a holster near his gun.

He was a millimeter away from pressing _send_ when the sea in front of him lurched and lapped at the docks as water was displaced. Why the water was moving so violently became apparent a moment later when Keikima looked out toward the horizon; there, on the edge of his vision, a cloud of black smoke entangled with dancing flames rose up to kiss the late morning clouds.

Sami Keikima was not a policeman for nothing; he was well versed in the powers of inference, and he had no problem discerning the explosion came from the same place Commander McGarrett drove out toward only minutes earlier.

Keikima gave the black cloud one last look before turning on his heel and running like hell toward his squad car, dialing his phone all the while. Only this time he wasn't calling his superiors.

He yanked open the car door, slid inside and wasted no time peeling out of the parking lot; he knew he couldn't stay, since he was only a deputy and McGarrett had the only HPD boat available in that harbor. He was going where he was needed, and he was calling who need be called.

His hand tapped madly against the steering wheel as the phone pressed against his ear rang endlessly. Finally, after decades of waiting, he heard a welcome voice on the other end.

"_This is Kalakaua."_

"Kono!" Keikima cried in relief.

"_Sami K! How's it, cuz?"_

"Listen, Kono, isn't Commander McGarrett your boss?" He wasted no preamble with his cousin; if he was right, there wasn't much time.

"_Yeah…"_

"I thought so. Get your ass off that airplane and get to Harbor at Diamond Head ASAP. We have a problem…"

* * *

><p>Danny missed New Jersey every day (though admittedly a little less as time wore on). He missed good pizza and real buildings and people who appreciated what work attire was supposed to look like.<p>

But one thing he surely didn't miss was the crooked, cumbersome political hierarchy that gripped the Jersey Police Department. Not only was it a breeding ground for corruption and whatnot, it made paperwork a bitch.

Compared to that, paperwork in Hawaii- even if the island _did_ seem to attract more criminals and generally nasty people than most other places combined- was a walk through the park. Danny was sure he did it much more efficiently than Steve had, and he'd been working half as long. Sure, he didn't have his partner's compulsively neat military script, but he got the job done, and he had more time free to actually be productive.

Sighing slightly, he leaned back into Steve's gargantuan chair and relaxed for a moment, letting the comfortable (though he wouldn't admit it _ever_) Hawaiian sun envelope him. He closed his eyes.

His phone rang. And the moment was over.

"Williams," he answered, stifling a yawn behind his hand, feeling lethargic.

"_Danny!"_

"Kono?" Danny sat up in the chair at the distressed note in her voice, frowning. "What's wrong? I though you and Chin were on an airplane."

"_We just emergency landed at the air force base. Listen, you need to meet us at Diamond Head."_

"Diamond… What? What's going on, Kono?"

"_I just got a call from my Cousin on the force. He says a boat exploded a few miles off of the coast-"  
><em>

"Steve…" Danny breathed. With a burst of adrenaline he leapt from the chair and ran out of the office, letting Steve's glass door slam behind him as he sprinted through the corridors and outside to his car, all the while talking to Kono.

"You and Chin get there and secure a boat. Find a chopper and prepare a rescue team to stand by. I'll call the governor. Try and make contact with McGarrett and, if you can't, call anyone else on that crime scene unit until you get an answer!"

There was a pause on the other side of the phone. _"What crime scene unit?"_ Kono asked, confusion lacing her melodic voice.

Danny furrowed his brow. "The one Steve went out to meet on the yacht. You know… the one with the crime…"

"_There was a crime? Danny, all my cousin told me was that there was an explosion from some place off the coast and that Steve was likely inside. He didn't mention a _crime_!" _

Danny paused, thinking hard. _Of course there was a crime. Of course there was a CSU_. _When did a single man _ever_ go out to a crime scene alone? _

"HPD called me this morning to say that some guy stumbled upon a DB on some yacht and called it in. Said it wasn't their jurisdiction and Navy called it low priority. But they _did_ say there was a CSU there waiting for us. Waiting for Steve. Why would we ever send a guy out on a boat _completely alone_ with a crime scene?"

"_I don't know… Something's going on, Danny. You say there's a crime that, according to my cousin, HPD has no record of. But you got a call from HPD about your crime. And there was supposed to be a CSU on the boat with Steve, but that can't be possible because no one knows about the crime. And now Steve's alone on an exploded boat with apparently no CSU and very little crime left."_

"Shit," Danny swore to himself. "I didn't tell Steve that a CSU would be waiting for him. I didn't think I needed to! Why wouldn't he call when he got to an empty boat? What the hell is his problem?" He was close to seething.

"_Not the time, Danny."_

He cooled slightly, agreeing with her and hating every second of it.

"Right, sorry. I don't know what the hell is going on, Kono, but I swear to your ridiculous Hawaiian gods that I'm going to find out. Steve first, though. I'll be at Diamond Head in ten minutes. We'll save Steve's sorry ass from whoever decided to blow that boat to holy hell, and _then_ we'll strangle the bastards who are targeting cops."

"_Targeting cops?"_ She asked, and Danny could almost hear the frown in her voice.

"Think about it. I get a call from HPD about a crime that HPD doesn't know about? Someone is setting us up. Someone with enough leverage to make us think a CSU was waiting for Steve and HPD to be ignorant of the plot."

"_Are you thinking…?"_

"Wo Fat? Maybe. Or just another vengeful nutcase targeting the people who put him away. I don't know."

He heard Kono sigh. He knew how she felt.

"_Okay. See you soon, Danny."_ Her voice trailed off listlessly. There was nothing left to say- not right now- so he snapped the phone shut and wasted no time, hopping in his car and peeling out of HQ with rubber squealing on the hot asphalt behind him.

* * *

><p>Gasoline.<p>

That was the first thing Steve noticed. The faint but odorous smell of gasoline, leaking into the room from…_ somewhere. _

After that came the pain.

It permeated throughout his whole body, leaving no part of him free of its terrible, raw clutches.

Still, pain or no pain, he was a Navy SEAL and was practically born with the ability to move forward. To persevere. And right now, he knew the last thing he wanted to do was lie in the ground when the smell of gasoline so obviously assaulted his nose.

He cracked his eyes open. Above him, the remnants of a once- luxurious and beautiful ceiling crumbled away as the pressure from above relentlessly pressed against it. He was lying at the bottom of the stairs of the front room of the yacht in what presumably was the same place he fell after hitting his head.

Steve winced as that idea brought with it the reminder of the little elf currently taking a sledgehammer to his skull. He raised his hand to his temple to inspect the damage, and his fingers came away bloody.

Cataloging that particular injury, he put both hands on the floor and attempted to push himself into a sitting position.

It didn't last long. Immediately, his chest protested in pain, terrible agony ripping into his side as his abdomen curled. He gasped and put a hand to his chest, feeling a rib or two move beneath his searching fingers.

_Great. Fucking fantastic. Danny's going to be so smug…_

Admittedly, not the most appropriately timed thought. Still, it gave Steve something to think about for just a moment. A moment to stop thinking about the great ache in his chest or the throbbing in his head or where the day had gone wrong. _Routine my ass, Williams. There's nothing _routine_ about this_.

The moment didn't last long. His ears began to ring and the ceiling above him began to creak and moan as the weight on top threatened collapse. Not wasting another second lying beneath such an unstable contraption, Steve once again made to sit up, this time ignoring his aching body's protests. Fire spread down his side and his head throbbed worse than ever, but he managed to sit up and then haul him up using the railing- still mostly intact- of the stairs.

Leaning against the stairwell and panting heavily, Steve surveyed the room. It was a complete disaster; it looked as though someone had… well… blown it up. Debris covered the stairwell he was about to climb, trapping him in that little room at the front of the exploded vessel. The one lonely window of the room was intact, but it sat very high and offered Steve absolutely no help apart from a small stream of sunlight into the dark and dusty room. All things considered, he'd had better mornings.

_I bet Niko is blown to shit…_ Steve mused, but as he did a thought struck him- one that he had witnessed passing along inside his mind before the explosion, but had not expressed. _Why would Danny send him out to a crime scene totally alone?_ Steve hadn't been a cop for long, and was quite used to being on his own, but he was well aware that typical police procedure included never being alone at the scene of a crime.

And yet Danny had sent him on his merry way, and then the goddamn boat blew to pieces.

Even as he thought it, Steve knew the words weren't true. He trusted Danny with his life. This was a mistake… a misunderstanding… a setup.

Steve frowned at the wreckage in front of him and tried to make sense of the thoughts in his head. Of course, that was proving impossible with the goddamn ringing in his ears...

_Ringing?_ His head was full of it.

Oh, wait. Actual ringing.

Still frowning, Steve reached a hand into the pocket of his cargo pants. Amazingly, even with all the wreckage around him and the damage done to his body, his cell phone remained mostly intact.

_Thank god for small favors_, he thought to himself, smiling a little when the ringing he'd heard proved to be Kono trying _very_ hard to contact him- if the number of missed calls was any indication.

"Kono," he answered, coughing a little and wincing internally at the raspy sound of his voice.

"_Steve!"_ She cried, _"Oh thank god! Are you okay? What happened?" _She was talking very quickly and breathlessly, and Steve could hear commotion in the background. Someone who sounded suspiciously like Danny was shouting very loudly, though the words were indiscernible.

"I've… been better," he replied, finding it hard to follow her rapid fire questions.

"_What happened?"_ She asked again, this time with more urgency.

"Well… the boat exploded."

"_No shit, Sherlock."_ Danny's voice replaced Kono's, sounding decidedly more agitated. _"You are useless."_

"Have some sympathy, Danno," Steve replied, unable to help the smile that graced his lips, "I'm hurt."

"_You're talking. I'll take that as a good sign… Now, where are you on the boat and what's the situation?" _

Steve took a moment to look around, but the situation had changed little since he'd been on the phone. "I'm-" he scrunched his face, thinking- "portside, I think. More toward the bow, in the cabin."

There was a slight rustling on the other side of the phone, and Steve heard Chin's calm voice explaining boat lingo to Danny. He smirked.

"_Have you sustained a head injury?"_ Danny asked, finally directing attention back to the conversation. Steve grimaced.

"Yes," he replied, "but there are no signs of brain damage-"

"_Thank god for that, we wouldn't want you to be wrong in the head."_

"That's funny, Danno. Anyway, I feel a few cracked ribs, too, but nothing too serious."

"_Nothing too…? What planet are you from, you Neanderthal? Head trauma and broken ribs-"_

"Cracked."

_"Whatever. This is serious-"_

But Steve did not hear the rest of Danny's sentence about properly describing a situation because his ears and mind were elsewhere, following the quiet but familiar sound of rushing water. From his place but the stairwell, he had a good vantage point to see the rest of the small room, and he had no trouble spotting the clear liquid snake into the room underneath the piles of debris. It was coming, and coming fast. The boat began to rock slightly and Steve almost lost his balance as the vessel shifted downward. The ceiling began to creak more and more. Steve wasn't a Navy man for nothing; he knew what a sinking boat looked like.

"Danny," Steve said, effectively ending his partner's rant, "where are you?"

"_On the dock trying to procure a boat and come save your sorry ass," _Danny replied, his voice sounding frustrated.

"You might want to hurry up," Steve said, watching the water inch closer to him and listening to the creaking of the sinking vessel. He looked up at the high window; it was still streaming sunlight, but Steve knew it wouldn't for long.

"_What…?"_

But Steve didn't have an answer for him. Just as Danny spoke, the boat gave a great lurch downward and Steve lost grip of his phone, watching helplessly as it sailed away from him and into the rising water. The floor was becoming alarmingly more vertical every second, and the creaking grew louder.

Steve had no more time to waste. He was lucky enough to know exactly how to deal with water- related emergencies, but unfortunately, that also made him all the more aware of just how fucked up the situation was about to become. He needed to get out, and fast.

He searched the floor frantically until he spotted something that would do; a twisted and ugly piece of exploded metal about the size of his forearm that had morphed into a point of sorts at one end. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the protest from his chest, he pushed off the wall he was leaning on and moved toward the object in question, only stopping for a moment to let the black dots in his vision clear.

With the metal object in hand, Steve moved back over to the other wall of the small room, carefully stepping around debris and ignoring the water lapping at his ankles. He just managed to grab a hold of the railing once more when the boat lurched violently and shifted and moved until the floor was almost vertical.

Thanking the high heavens, or eleven years as a Naval Officer, that he moved fast enough, Steve gripped the railing and let his belly lay on the floor so that he was almost upright by the vertical position of the boat.

And now, he waited. He waited until the pressure inside the boat and the pressure outside the boat were close enough that breaking the glass window high above him would not result in an relentless cascade of water. He waited until the last possible second, when he could float upward toward the window and his escape.

The water inched toward him so that it barely tickled his dangling feet. The ache in his ribs grew with each passing second as he clung to the railing of the stairwell. Debris shook loose from above and rained down, covering him with dust and shards of metal that cut into his cheek.

And still he waited.

TBC

* * *

><p>AN: See? I told you guys everything would be okay. Y'all are silly; I give you one chapter and all hell breaks loose. But I had a plan. I always have a plan. And now we have Wo Fat involved and Steve on a sinking ship and all sorts of nasty stuff. Party on.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: You guys are amazing! Thanks loads for the awesome review- they make me very happy. And actually fuel me to write faster cause I can't stand to keep y'all waiting.

And yes, party on is right. I think I may secretly be Dexter… but hey, whatever. I claim the rights to creative control. So THERE! Ha.

Anyway, I hope you find the next installment to your liking… I'm hoping not to drag it out like I did with the TOS arc, so I'm trying to jam pack all the action and witty banter into a small number of words.

Enjoy!

Luna.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, plotlines, and snappy catchphrases belong to CBS studios. No profit is being made in the publication of this story.

* * *

><p>"Hello… Steve? McGarrett! Damnit!" Danny cried, pulling his phone from his ear and glaring at it, hoping it would reproduce the sound of his partner's tired and raspy voice. He got nothing but deep silence in return, followed by the telltale dial tone that screamed <em>THIS PERSON IS GONE! GONE I TELL YOU! HANG UP!<em>

Danny hung up with an angry jab of his thumb and stashed the useless device away. Turning back to Chin and Kono, he found them huddled together, speaking quietly and with more than just their words. He caught the look that passed between the two.

"We have to go. Now." Danny said, leaving no room for argument. Kono nodded. Chin looked apprehensive.

"What?" Danny barked, turning on him and glaring. Kono laid a hand on his arm placatingly.

"Relax, brah," Chin returned calmly, hands raised defensively, "we all want him back. But there's a good chance the boat is sinking. We need divers. Equipment."

"We need a miracle."

"That too."

"So what the hell do you want us to do, Chin? Sit back and let him _drown_?"

"Of course not, Danny!" Chin cried, his perpetually stoic eyes flashing. Danny could tell he hit a nerve. He backed off, noting his unrequited anger toward the native man.

"Sorry, Chin," he sighed, bringing a shaking hand to the bridge of his nose, "I'm… stressed."

"Us, too. But hot headed anger won't do anyone any good. We need a plan."

"We need a boat," Kono chimed in.

"We need to do whatever we're going to do right now. We don't have time to waste!" Danny bit back. He couldn't stand still, and found himself pacing around and around the damp dock, turning only when he had no more wood to walk on. The water lapped lazily at the structure, looking far more innocent than it was. Danny scowled.

"Kono!" A young voice cried, and Danny could hear pounding footsteps as the owner of that voice reached the dock.

"Sami K!" Kono called back, waving. A small smile graced her lips, but it didn't stay long. Danny tuned out the conversation between the cousins and turned back to glare at the sea beneath his feet. His hands shook as he stood, twitching with frustration and terror at the thought that Steve sunk closer and closer to his death- SEAL or not, the water was cold that far out and he wasn't a fucking _fish_- while the team stood idly by, unable to do anything to help. Chin was right; they had no rescue helicopter, no boat, no nothing.

That didn't last long.

"Danny," Kono breathed, sounding strangely relieved. Danny turned. Both she and Chin were smiling slightly, looking determined.

"Our cousin is a rockstar," Kono continued, "and he found us a boat."

Danny couldn't help but smile just a little, too.

* * *

><p>The water was cold.<p>

Sure, Steve was used to far worse; he once did cold water conditioning for four hours in the middle of the night. In Maryland. In December. He knew cold.

But home was always _warm_. Hawaii was the epitome of beautiful waters and sunshine and general comfort. Hawaiian water shouldn't be cold. Hypothermia should be just another medical term that didn't apply here.

But it was. And Steve was feeling the telltale stiffening of his limbs and shortness of breath as his body tried to conserve heat as much as possible.

_Damn,_ he thought, _I don't have time to be hypothermic_. The water was up to his waist at that point, and he had let go of the railing of the vertical and still sinking ship and let himself float lazily, inching closer to the window and his salvation, still holding onto his metal instrument so tightly he was sure he was about to draw blood. He couldn't risk loosing it; it was the best was to increment the water that would rush in from the window he would crack. If he used a fist, he risked a torrent of water so great that he would surely be knocked back into the boat, unable to escape.

It was going to be close. Steve knew if he cracked the window too early and it was submerged, the water would rush in too quickly for him to counteract it. If he was too late, the boat would be _very_ deep, and the swim would be almost impossible, given the cold permeating through him and the stiffness in his body. He knew his limits, and that was one of them.

So the timing had to be perfect.

Trying to kick his legs, and finding them almost too stiff to move, Steve didn't fight the shivering. He knew it was the best option he had of producing heat in his body. So he continued to float and to try and kick and to let the tremors in his body continue unabated.

The water rose steadily, and Steve rose with it.

A loud creak sounded throughout the hollow room. And then another. And another. The foreboding symphony could only mean one thing; the boat was completely submerged and sinking fast. Steve shiver's reached epic proportions as his chattering teeth entered the mix.

He was tired of waiting. Tired of being helpless. Tired of being tired. He was itching to be progressive- to help himself.

Lucky for him the water was pouring in fast. He was still rising toward the window that sat high above him.

Ten feet. And then seven. And five. Three. Just an arm's length. And then he was there. The water pushed him up to the window, and Steve looked out into the deep blue waters. It was dark. Very dark. Steve knew he was deep below the surface, and getting deeper every second.

The water lapped at the window. And then submerged it, forcing Steve toward the top of the vertical boat.

Steve braced himself. The room was almost full of freezing water, leaving nothing but a pocket of air.

He was getting colder. Stiffer. He tilted his head to catch a final gulp of air. And then the water tickled his nose. He breathed deeply a last time, knowing he would have no more air for several minutes.

It was time.

The pressure was equalized, and he was out of air. Wasting no time, he swam toward the window, feeling as much as he was seeing since the salty water blurred his vision.

There it was. The window. Steve blew out a few bubbles and sunk to the level of the glass, poising his metal instrument as he went. Reaching out with his hand and feeling the smooth surface, he jabbed the metal quickly into it, seeing the blurred outline of a hole formed and feeling a slight change in the water. Satisfied, he made another and a third until he was sure water would not rush in and force him back.

He was running out of both time and air. Dropping the metal rod, he struck out with his fist and pounded away until the glass cracked against his fingers and ultimately broke. Water did rush in; it was minimal and didn't force Steve deeper into the boat, but it was enough to slice his hand as it passed, glass gouging out the flesh as the water turned red.

Blackness started to creep at the edges of his vision. His limbs grew stiffer and his head pounded. Still, he forced himself to grab the edges of the newly formed hole in the sunken vessel and propel himself through it and out into the open sea.

He wanted to twist toward the surface above him. Wanted to feel the sun on his face. He wanted to kick his legs and move his arms like he learned at the Academy. He wanted to breathe again.

But he was tired. And his body seemed unwilling to do what his mind commanded.

He was a good swimmer. A great swimmer. In fact, he was so confident of his ability to swim that he had never before questioned himself in any situation involving the water. Five years as a SEAL and he had never succumb to the sea. Never been overcome. Even when he jumped after a fallen comrade in Russia and had been forced to bring him back to the surface of the frozen lake and through the one small opening. He didn't falter when he had to hold is breath for several minutes as he hid beneath Anton Hesse's cargo ship, waiting to board. He had never let the water get the best of him. Ever.

Today it did, because had not done those things devoid of any proper gear, sporting a head injury and cracked ribs. And so his body was growing wearier with each passing second. He was cold and stiff and losing blood rapidly through his sliced hand and the front of his head. His chest was constricting, his aching ribs protesting loudly to the lack of oxygen.

Steve pushed forward, still swimming desperately toward the surface, his sluggish body struggling to keep up with his unprecedented determination.

Blackness threatened to engulf him. It danced at the corners of his eyes, creeping in and out as he strained to overlook it. His head thudded with the ragged beat of his heart. His lungs screamed for oxygen.

And then he broke the surface.

Gasping and sputtering, he attempted a single gulp of clean, dry air. What he got instead was the salty taste of water once more as small but relentless waves lapped over his barely surfaced head. It snaked down his throat, making him want to cough but unable to. Once again devoid of oxygen, Steve felt himself slip under the surface of the water. His vision went dark as he sank deeper and deeper, his desperate lungs and pounding head giving way to a comfortable nothingness that he embraced without question.

* * *

><p>"How far out is the yacht supposed to be?" Kono asked, not looking at the other tow men in the boat, and instead pouring over a GPS.<p>

"No one is sure," Danny replied, looking urgently out over the water and grasping the railing tightly- partly out of fear of the sea and partly out of fear of what he would find. "Since HPD didn't actually call it in, no one bothered to check." He hated himself for that. "It can't be more than fifteen minutes away, given what your cousin said.

"Then we reached the end of the line…" Kono trailed away, looking up at Danny fearfully. Danny felt the panic that he saw in her eyes, knowing the implication of a general lack of exploded yacht anywhere in the vicinity.

"Do we have any sonar equipment?" He asked desperately, hoping they had some kind of answer. Some kind of miracle. Kono shook her head.

"So we go in old fashioned," Chin piped up. Kono and Danny looked down; he was sitting on the floor of the small and sleek vessel they had obtained, putting a wetsuit on his chest and oxygen on his back.

Standing, he grabbed the rest of his gear and prepared to jump at a moment's notice.

Danny, unable to watch someone gear up to save _his_ partner (Chin was the best diver, but it didn't make it any less frustrating to see), turned out again to look over the gently lapping water.

He had never considered himself a particularly lucky man; after all, he had gone through a divorce, a major move, a career change, the loss of a brother, and more than one near death experience, and he wasn't even middle aged yet. He was fully prepared to be struck by lightning at any time.

And yet, today, he was a very lucky man. Maybe it was fate apologizing for being such a bitch. Maybe not. All Danny knew was that he was counting his blessings and thanking the high heavens that he was granted this one small bit of luck, because- as luck would have it- he was facing southwest as Chin continued to prepare behind him. And southwest, less than twenty yards away, was where Danny saw- if only for a moment- a pale peachy speck break the surface. It stayed for a second or two before a small wave broke over it, and then the speck was gone.

But Danny wasn't a detective for nothing. And today he was a lucky man.

"Chin," he said urgently, catching the man's attention. "There." He pointed. "Southwest. Twenty yards."

Chin gave him a brief, very scrutinizing look. And then he nodded once, took two steps, and jumped off the side of the boat into the water.

Danny's heart beat faster, and his breathing accelerated. _He has to find him. He has to. I can't do this… not again. _

Kono clasped his hand reassuringly, and Danny squeezed back unconsciously.

Together, they waited.

* * *

><p>Chin didn't let the cold, deep waters faze him when. He acknowledged that the sea was unseasonably chilly, especially on this side of the island. He noted the blackness beneath him and the faint outline of what was surely the sunken yacht. But he didn't let it faze him.<p>

Because if he did, he didn't think he'd be able to continue as the sheer weight of his task would paralyze him.

So instead Chin pressed on, swimming deeper and deeper, flashlight out and searching frantically for his boss. He moved the light surely, but not too quickly so as to not miss anything. It took less than ten seconds for the beam to fall across a shadow. A Steve McGarrett shaped shadow.

Chin didn't bother to hold on to the light any longer; he had Steve in his sights- sort of- and the man was sinking fast. So he dropped the device and kicked. Hard. Pulling with his hands, moving water faster than he'd ever done before, he cut through the dense liquid. The shadow grew larger.

Chin's eyed widened when he finally descended on Steve's still sinking form. McGarrett was exceedingly pale, eyes closed, lips tinged blue. There were no bubbles escaping his mouth or nose. _Water in his lungs_, Chin thought fleetingly.

That was all he could discern, however, because the moment Chin snaked an arm around Steve's waist, he was off again, kicking with all his might toward the surface. It seemed miles away. Light-years. This was impossible. They would never make it. They were too far. Much too far.

A shadow appeared slightly to his right. A boat. Their boat.

Chin pushed harder, his lungs grateful for the oxygen they were receiving and well aware that Steve's had none. It would come down to mere seconds.

Chin broke the surface.

Immediately bringing Steve up with him, he splashed as much as possible and waved his arms to catch Danny's attention. Turns out he didn't need to; the minute he found dry air the boat was descending on the pair of them, Kono behind the wheel and Danny clinging to the railing with a hand out, prepared to haul Steve onto the vessel.

Chin pulled his boss's still unconscious and unmoving form forward and lifted with all his might. Together, he and Danny managed to push and pull him onto the boat. Danny immediately moved him over to the other side and laid him down, leaving Chin to climb aboard.

Dropping his oxygen tank and mask, he dropped down next to the mainlander as Kono spun the boat around and sped back to shore, the bullet- like vessel cutting through the water effortlessly.

* * *

><p>Danny almost cried with relief when he hauled Steve onto the small speedboat. He was there. Tangible. Real.<p>

His relief was sort- lived, however, because Steve was there all right, but his pulse and breathing were not. Blind panic surged through him once more as he laid Steve on the deck with enough room for Chin to climb aboard and finally got a good look at his partner. Steve was still, bluish- while, and bleeding sluggishly from his forehead and right hand.

Danny's inspection of his partner lasted exactly a half second before he put two hands on Steve's chest and pushed. Hard. He did it once more before bending down, clamping a hand over Steve's nose and breathing for him.

One, two, breathe. One, two, breathe. He did this twice before Chin dropped down next to him, poising to take over the breathing part so that Danny could focus solely on trying to pump blood into Steve's still heart.

"How's he doing?" Kono yelled from the front, her voice cracking.

"No pulse and no breathing. He needs to get to a hospital. Now!" Danny cried back, not looking up from his task. Steve remained blue and motionless, moving only with the pounding his chest took.

"He has water in his lungs," Chin muttered urgently between breaths. "He needs to cough it up."

"Yeah," Danny bit back, gritting his teeth, "just as soon as he has a pulse."

"How long has he been under?" Kono asked, eyes never straying from the endless expanse of ocean in front of her. The general lack of land made Danny's hands shake.

"Too long," he replied.

One, two, breathe. One, two, breathe. It had been thirty seconds. And when every second counted, it was thirty too many.

Danny pushed again and again. Chin kept breathing. Kono kept driving. And Steve did nothing. No movement. No heartbeat. Nothing. Danny's eyes misted as he pounded away, hands cramping with effort. He couldn't do it again. Couldn't lose another partner. Another brother.

"Damnit, Steve," he growled, "breathe! Get off your lazy ass and breathe!"

And he did.

After forty five seconds of unsuccessful breathing and chest compressions, Steve arched his back and coughed. Water spilled out of his mouth and he turned instinctively to the side to dispel the liquid. It poured onto the deck as he continued to cough violently and suck in great, shuddering, ragged breaths.

"That's good, Rambo, spit it out," Danny said, sitting back slightly and giving just a small smile.

Chin didn't respond the same way. The minute Steve began to breathe on his own, the native man sprung into action, moving quickly to cut Steve's soaked shirt away. Danny frowned at the sudden motion, but his eyes widened a second later as he understood. Steve was blue for a reason.

Standing up and digging around for a stash of blankets that had made it onto the boat along with a small stash of other medical gear, Danny and Chin quickly removed the rest of Steve's soaking and freezing garments. They both gaped a little at the purple and blue bruising all along the left side of his chest, but then noted the injury and moved on. Warmth was the most important thing now.

"How far, Kono?" Chin asked, eyes never straying from his task.

"Ten," was the helpless answer. "Will he make it?"

"I don't know."

Tucking the blankets around Steve's breathing but still form, Danny caught Chin's eyes. They both knew the unspoken answer to the question. _He won't unless we can get him warm._

Steve shivered.

"Chin," Danny said, noting the tremor, "He's still too cold."

"The shivering is good," the other man replied. He didn't sound hopeful.

Steve turned his head slightly, and then cracked his eyes open.

"Steve?" Danny asked, leaning toward the blanketed man. "Can you hear me? You're safe, you crazy- ass SOB. No thanks to you." Steve didn't respond. His eyes had opened more, and his blue- tinged lips parted, but no words were formed.

"Danny…" Chin began, looking down at Steve's unresponsive form, "we don't know how long he went without oxygen. We don't know the brain function yet-"

"Don't sat that, Chin!" Danny hissed, glaring. "He's going to be fine. He practically lived in the water for five years as a SEAL. He'd going to be okay. He has to be." He dismissed Chin and his statement and turned back to his partner.

"Steve?" He questioned again, peering closely into the man's open eyes.

They looked right past him.

TBC

* * *

><p>AN: Yeah, I know. It resembles Grey's Anatomy. Not my fault I just watched that episode. But I do need a question answered: Full recovery and the end of the story? Or should Steve have to relearn something he was really good at? Like talking. Or killing people. Or generally being a badass. I'd like to keep him as a badass, so preferably not that one. Let me know!


End file.
